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He pulls me gently from the chair and into the living room. His palm settles at my lower back. His other hand closes around mine, broad and warm. He moves like he does everything else—controlled until he decides control has served its purpose.

Ezra dances around us with theatrical revelry, pale hair falling into his eyes, grin sharp enough to cut through the day’s fear. When he spins too fast, his elbow flickers.

He stops, looks at it, then waggles his fingers. “I even have special effects.”

I laugh again.

Theo’s arm tightens, then eases before I can ask.

The song keeps moving, ridiculous and bright. Ezra catches my free hand and pulls me from Theo’s hold. I stumble into him, and he steadies me by my hips. His body is cooler than Theo’s, his scent linen and crisp apple beneath the sweet fog of my own rising perfume.

“You smell happy,” Ezra says.

“That’s private.”

“It’s filling the room.”

“Biology has an exhibitionist streak.”

Theo steps behind me. His chest meets my back, and his mouth brushes the side of my neck. “I adore your body.”

Ezra’s eyes darken.

Theo’s hand slides across my stomach. “It does a good job of telling us exactly what you need.” His teeth skirt along my pulse. “Now be a good girl and let me give it to you.”

My knees soften. “Oh,” I whisper.

Ezra’s smile turns slow. “That worked.”

Theo’s lips move against my neck. “It did.”

“I’m still present,” I manage.

“I know.” Theo’s hand spreads wider over my belly. “I can feel you shaking.”

Ezra leans in and kisses me. His mouth is soft at first, almost teasing, but the day has left too much for gentle to stay gentle. I open for him, and he makes a low sound that Theo answers against my throat. Theo scents me again, deliberate and possessive, dragging his cheek from my temple down to the place where my neck meets my shoulder.

I purr.

The sound surprises all three of us.

Ezra pulls back with shining eyes. “That was new outside heat.”

“I’m expanding my skillset.”

Theo turns me in his arms. His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek. “Do you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Do you want the couch?”

“Yes.”

His gaze lowers to my mouth. “Use your words for me.”

My breath catches. The carefulness and care in the command makes it hotter. “I want the couch. I want both of you. I want to feel wanted and let my brain forget being useful.”

Theo’s face shifts to fierce and tender all at once. “You are wanted.”